Sign Your Name
by Kath
Summary: There are some who wish to destroy even the most perfect world. Thanks to all who enjoyed MY, I hope you like this too...
1. Default Chapter

Author; Kath.  
Title; Seaquest 2032 - "Sign your name."   
Rating; PG13/15  
Disclaimer; Seaquest DSV/2032 and their characters are the property of Amblin Entertainment, Universal Television and the Sci-fi Channel. No infringement of copyright or trademark is intended. Story remains property of the author.  
  
Seaquest 2032 - Sign Your Name  
  
***  
  
The streets of Aberstad were teeming with life.   
  
Street vendors shouting their wares. Unobtrusive street-walkers eyeing up potential customers. Housewives, and husbands, jockeying for the best bargains. Smartly suited business types sipping brightly coloured cocktails. Traffic cops directing the flow of hovercrafts and die-hard pedestrians. And tourists, readily identifiable by their street-maps, loud clothing and slightly bemused expressions. All those people soaking up, or contributing to, the atmosphere of a bustling, metropolitan city in the twenty-first century.  
  
Mason Freeman gazed out at the sight with barely disguised disdain. *The dregs of society rubbing shoulders with the cream.* He would have had more tolerance for the spectacle if he had more respect for the people. Had he escaped from Tartarus for this?   
  
He'd been there. He'd worked with them all. Dion. Bourne. They had the vision. But they never had the guts to do what needed to be done. And now that he was out - free to choose - Mason Freeman would not be making the same mistakes.  
  
Freeman took a last look over the city. Casually, he snorted a nasal spray and crushed its packaging underfoot. A wisp of grey air puffed up from beneath his shoes and Mason Freeman strolled away. Litter was an all too common sight on the streets.  
  
***  
  
This was the big one.   
  
This was what they had been training for.   
  
This was what they had worked so hard for.   
  
The honour of the UEO, the honour of the Seaquest crew was at stake.  
  
Commander Jonathan Ford glanced up at the clock and then settled a steely gaze on each of his team members. "You all know what to do." He collected the silent nods. "Let's do it."  
  
The team split up and took their positions.   
  
The referee blew his whistle and the final of the 'Internex World Community' Basketball Tournament recommenced, with seventeen seconds on the clock and the Seaquest Barracudas trailing by one point.  
  
Tony Piccolo made short work of retrieving the ball from the hulking striker on the opposite team. The player might have been big but he was no match for Piccolo's speed. Three bounces with Tony dodging the opposition defence and then a quick throw to Tim O'Neil standing open on the other side of the court. Tim had not had a great game so far and the opposition seemed to have written him off.   
  
O'Neil plucked the ball from the air. Quick, long strides took him to a scoring position, but the opposition were closing him down. Desperate not to lose the attack O'Neil flung the ball to Kimura.  
  
Kimura bounced the ball in front of her, keeping it away from the opposition defender. Stalemate; he could not reach the ball, but Kimura could not score.  
  
"Time, Kimura!" Ford yelled, the seconds were slipping away.  
  
There was a blur of blonde. Kimura tossed the ball to Wolenczak who gathered his lanky legs for a mighty leap. The ball trickled into the basket just as the horn sounded for the end of the game.  
  
Lucas dropped down to the court panting from his run and looked up to the scoreboard. The red lights shone out - North Sea Seals; 42, Seaquest Barracudas; 43.  
  
The team came together in a riot of back-slapping and congratulations while the roar of their supporters rose to a crescendo. "Questies!, Questies!, Questies!"   
  
Both teams shook hands with their opposite numbers, happy grins still splitting the faces of the victorious crew. Then officials escorted the players off the court to get ready for the presentations.  
  
***  
  
Up in the stands, Captain Oliver Hudson beamed with pride as he watched the impressive trophy being festooned with the UEO colours. Beside him Secretary McGrath rose and shook his hand. "Good game, Oliver. It will be a real pleasure to present the trophy this year."  
  
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." there was a distinct gleam of triumph in Hudson's eyes.  
  
"Come on, Oliver. I know you. You're planning something."  
  
Hudson grinned. "Two day furlong for the team. Party for all non-essential crew members at 'The Mariner' restaurant."  
  
McGrath's eyebrow rose in surprise. "On your wages?"  
  
"Oh, I'm not paying for it." Hudson nodded towards a North Sea Confederation Admiral. The only man in the whole stadium with a glowering expression on his face. "Admiral McClintock should never make boastful statements at UEO receptions when he might be called on them."  
  
McGrath shook his head as he made his way to the podium.  
  
Hudson looked down to the team and caught Commander Ford's eye. He gave him a thumb's up and Ford replied with a nod and a quick salute.  
  
As the stadium quietened down, Hudson became aware of an insistent beeping. Sighing he took out his PAL muttering, "Not now." His face fell as he read the message. He was torn between answering the call and seeing the presentation, but it was a 'Priority 1' message. Awkwardly Hudson made his way passed the spectators, heading for the exit.  
  
***   
  
Secretary McGrath smiled out at the packed stadium. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I'm sure you will all agree with me that this year's final was one of the best we've ever seen." The crowd cheered. "This tournament is a shining example of the friendship that exists between our Confederations. And I would like to take this opportunity to pay tribute to all the teams who entered this competition. Their dedication, skill and fair play throughout has been an inspiration to us all." Again McGrath paused as the crowd shouted its approval.   
  
An official stepped up to McGrath as the applause was dying down. McGrath turned slightly to hear what the official was saying and his face turned ashen. He covered the microphone with his hand, but not before the stadium heard him ask in a shaken voice, "Are you sure?"  
  
People looked at each other in consternation. McGrath's posture was so at odds with how he had been a few seconds ago.   
  
McGrath turned back to the microphone and took a deep breath. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to tell you that a... a terrible disaster has occurred in the city of Aberstad. We will tell you more as soon as we are able. In the meantime, helplines are being set up so that we can contact our friends and relatives in the city. I must ask you to refrain from trying to contact the city directly, all communication lines have been reserved for the emergency services. I'm sure you will join with me in expressing our deep condolences to the city of Aberstad and assure them of any and all aid that they may require." McGrath left the podium surrounded by various UEO officials, all whispering urgently.  
  
The Seaquest crew looked at each other in concern. Ford's miniature PAL beeped, followed closely by everyone else's. They took them out staring at the screens, seeing the curt message to report for duty.  
  
"I wonder what's going on?" Piccolo asked.  
  
He had his answer when the giant screen at the head of the court changed its pictures from the stadium to one of the news channels. A distorted commentary was piped over the speakers; "...death toll rising...pleas for medical supplies...no warning...epidemic...martial law declared..." The commentary abruptly cut out, but it was not needed. The pictures were enough.  
  
Rescue workers, some in full biological hazard suits, others with only masks over their faces, struggled to evacuate people to ambulances. Men, women, children; some screaming, some staring, some rocking back and forth with no purpose. And everything was dead, or dying, even the trees and flowers.   
  
It was an odd thing to notice, but Lonnie Henderson reasoned that she'd seen too many human casualties since joining Seaquest.   
  
"We have our orders." Commander Ford's voice was clipped and precise. The Seaquest Barracudas quietly gathered up their gear and left the deathly silent stadium.  
  
***  
  
There was a sombre atmosphere in the wardroom.  
  
Hudson closed the door quietly and moved to the head of the conference table. He dropped a number of files down on the table, but did not open them. Instead he gazed around his officers.  
  
"Here's what we know." Hudson said at last. He stopped, swallowed, then passed a hand over his forehead. He laid his hand down on the table, his head drooping. Without raising his head he continued, "Aberstad is gone. The city was attacked with a biological weapon."  
  
Silence greeted the announcement. Hudson looked up, almost in surprise. He would have expected some reaction. But looking around his crew he could see that they had already considered the alternatives.  
  
"So." Hudson continued, briskly. If they could do it, so could he. "The biological compound was 'Tronia14'. Highly experimental, very dangerous, and, as far as we know, not readily available."  
  
"Except to us."  
  
All heads turned to Wolenczak.   
  
"No." whispered Henderson in distress.  
  
"Stow it, Ensign." Hudson barked. "Our orders are to lay off the coast of Aberstad. We are to render every humanitarian aid we can. Doctor Perry is drawing up schedules for the medical team. Commander Ford, you will co-ordinate with her on all security matters. Lieutenant Henderson, set a course for Aberstad. Mr Piccolo, all fighter drills are suspended until further notice. I want you and Commander Kimura to overhaul the Seaquest's weapon systems. Mr O'Neil, prepare a report on the boat's communication readiness. Dismissed!"  
  
Slowly the Seaquest officers rose to their feet. Ford and Piccolo dallied, and Hudson knew one of them was bound to ask questions in the next second. He shook his head decisively and said, "Ensign Wolenczak, a moment, if you please." Lucas returned to his seat and Hudson waved Ford and Piccolo away. "When you're ready." he added sarcastically as the two officers showed no sign of leaving.  
  
Ford hustled Piccolo from the room, swinging the door shut behind them.   
  
Hudson loomed over Wolenczek. "What do you mean, 'Except us'?"  
  
***  
  
Freeman flicked idly through the various channels. Inane sit-com here, debauched game-show there, he paused as his remote found a news channel. He smiled in satisfaction. The language of the newsreader was unfamiliar, but she did sound slightly hysterical. He grinned more widely; just as he had hoped. Terrify the sheep, then show them the way... He frowned as the news report went on to the next item - some pseudo-celebrity opening a new art gallery in London-Town. Was not that typical of the media? The deaths of countless millions only just beating the glamour of art. Well, he could show them art...  
  
***  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Don't play games, Ensign. You know something."  
  
"I'm not supposed to." Lucas said carefully.  
  
"Right now, I really don't care." Hudson stepped back from the table and tapped the files. "I'm not interested in the crew rosters, I'm not interested in the South Sea Confederation's vacation schedule, I'm really not interested in 'vegas.nex'." Lucas could not help blushing as the Captain named the site he had set up for Piccolo, "But I am interested in what you've found out, by accident."  
  
"Tronia14"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Lucas took a deep breath. "We invented it, sir. The UEO. It was supposed to be the new hope for the developing world. It was supposed to be able to bring about spontaneous growth of indigenous plant life."  
  
"Let me guess, it didn't work."  
  
"Oh no. It worked all right. Unfortunately the compound accelerated the growth of the chosen fauna so rapidly that it wiped out every other plant species in the vicinity. Thankfully, it was only ever tested under laboratory conditions."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The tests suggested that if it was ever released into the atmosphere it would destroy everything, plant and animal, regardless, until it's species was dominant."  
  
"Aberstad." Hudson said flatly.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"I don't suppose the boffins who thought up this little gem also thought up some kind of cure, antidote?"  
  
"No, sir." Lucas paused, then continued, "They weren't trying to create a monster, Captain. They thought they were doing something good."  
  
"So did the scientists on the 'Manhattan Project'." Hudson said grimly. He sighed. "Since you have a passing familiarity with this toxin," Hudson held up a hand to forestall Wolenczak's protest, "however brief, I would like you to liase with Doctor Perry. Attempt to synthesise an antidote. Are any of the original scientists involved on this project near enough to contact?"  
  
"I would have to check, Captain." said Lucas, with that careful tone in his voice again.  
  
"Then check. I hereby authorise you to use any and all means to facilitate the UEO's humanitarian efforts in Aberstad. I will show the same in my log."  
  
Lucas gaped at the wide-ranging remit he'd just been handed, and at the trust the captain was placing in him. "Yes, sir."  
  
***   
  
Hudson sat down heavily once Lucas had gone. He did not like this one bit. He had a feeling that it was going to get ugly, very ugly.  
  
TBC   
  
A/N; I promised myself that I would never post in instalments again. But hey, I can't give up smoking either. Despite having a cracking Chpt2 (if I do say so myself) ready to go, after that I'm at a loss. Writer's Block has kicked in with a vengeance. So I'm ready to beg. If you're still with me; enjoy the next episode, correct anything that needs correcting, and send some feedback. I find the comments the best inspiration to continue. BTW - You'll find 'blackmail' in the dictionary. G. 


	2. Chapter 2 - Wheels within wheels

Chapter 2 - See Part 1 for Disclaimers.  
  
***  
  
Hudson had a feeling it was going to get ugly. Very ugly. He pulled the files towards himself and flicked the first one open.  
  
---  
  
Forty minutes later, and the opened files outweighed the closed. Hudson was beyond angry. Not one of the UEO files contained any reference to 'Tronia14'. How was he supposed to do any good if his bosses kept the facts from him?  
  
There was a soft knock at the wardroom door and after Hudson's impatient "Come in", Lucas entered. Hudson was also beyond civility. "Well?"  
  
Wolenczak laid down several files. "You're not going to like it, Capatain."  
  
"That I'd guessed, Ensign. What's the news?"  
  
Lucas took a deep breath. " 'Operation Green Belt', that's the code-name for the program which developed 'Tronia14', was terminated fourteen months ago. All of the scientists, with the exception of one, were reassigned to other projects. All materials from the project were destroyed."  
  
Hudson massaged his forehead. "Super."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Hudson looked up at the tenataive tone of his officer. Lucas rushed on, "Two holes, sir." Hudson frowned in confusion and Lucas hastened to explain, "One; there was a break-in at the lab before they were shut down. Nothing appeared to have been stolen at the time, but it did seem to have been an inside job. That was the opinion of the investigating officers anyway."  
  
"And two?"  
  
"The investigating officers came from Section7, sir."  
  
Hudson's heart bounced off the deck. "Section7. Wonderful." he muttered. He tried to keep his face neutral as he replied, "Good work, Ensign." Hudson swallowed. "Now that we have this cleared up, I need you to help O'Neill with the Communications overhaul."  
  
"Finished?" Wolenczak was incredulous. ""I'm nowhere near finished, sir." He swept on, regardless of the stony expression gracing his captain's face, "I can get them, sir. They won't know what hit them."  
  
Hudson turned away and, trying to stop his shoulders drooping, he spoke softly. "I realise that you and many of the crew have no reason to trust Section7." He ignored Wolenczak's derisory snort. "But you've done enough."   
  
//The sea looks so pretty at this depth. Clear blues and greens.//   
  
Hudson watched as a shoal of mackerel flashed along the porthole - more than likely evading something bigger. He turned back to his officer. "You are relieved, Ensign. You've done a good job."   
  
"But, sir..."  
  
"Enough!" Hudson roared. He returned to the porthole and clasped his hands behind his back. He spoke hurriedly, "You know I lost my commission, my career, because I went against orders." Hudson could see Wolenczak's reflection raise its arms to negate the words, but Hudson carried on, "and I have never regretted that. Not for one moment, Ensign. Not for one moment." He turned around and solemnly regarded his Computer Specialist. "But I would regret losing such a promising officer."  
  
Lucas gulped. "Are you threatening me, Captain?"  
  
Hudson shook his head. "Never. But Section7 will. They have no qualms. They are our greatest defence, Wolenczak. Because they think like the enemy thinks. And no one, not the Admirals, not the Generals, not Secretary McGrath, is willing, or able, to give them up."  
  
"And that makes it okay?" Lucas said bitterly.  
  
"No, not okay." Hudson stepped forward. "Just necessary."  
  
Lucas could have said something, but at that moment the captain's screen flickered into life.  
  
"Another attack. No warning, No reason. Only the dead." The camera panned up over London-town.  
  
"They've done it again." Lucas whispered.  
  
Hudson stared at the screen, not quite concealing his horror. No, not even Section7 would do such a thing. They couldn't, they wouldn't. Would they?  
  
"You said all the scientists from 'Green Belt' were reassigned except one."  
  
"Yeah," Lucas was still transfixed by the images on the screen.  
  
"Who?" Hudson barked. "And where is he?"  
  
"Professor Archibald Garabaldi. Resigned from the UEO two weeks after the break-in to take a teaching post at the University of Edinburgh."  
  
Hudson swiped his PAL from his belt. "Commander Ford, have a shuttle prepped and ready to launch in thirty minutes. You and Ensign Wolenczak are taking a trip to the North Sea Confederation." He shut down the PAL and turned to Lucas. "Bring the Professor back here. At the very least he can help Doctor Perry."  
  
"Yes, sir." Lucas knew better than to argue, and Garabaldi could be of assisstance. He snapped a salute and left.  
  
Hudson turned back to the news report. For the moment, he could try to clear his mind of the pity, the disbelief and the shock. It did not work.  
  
***  
  
Mason Freeman smiled in satisfaction as he looked over the city.  
  
"You have a 10 o'clock meeting with representatives from the 'Moral Coalition' followed by a working brunch with Emmet and the rest of the campaign team. At 1.30 you are meeting with Vice-Secretary Lumous to put forward your constituents' concerns about the proposed land-fill site in an area of historic significance."  
  
Freeman snorted. " 'Historic significance!' A decrepit factory that has been abandoned for forty years, only one step up from a garbage dump as it is. And all because it is the site of the last, what were they called? 'Car' to roll of the production line." He shook his head. "Sentimentality will be the death of us, Sheryl. However, the constituents must be listened to. Did a package arrive for me?"  
  
Sheryl wordlessly handed over a padded envelope, the injunction 'Do Not Bend; Photographs.' clearly emblazoned across it.  
  
Freeman swivelled in his chair, hiding the contents from his assistant's gaze. He examined them carefully, a cruel smile forming. "My, my, Mr Vice-Secretary. I didn't think you had it in you." he muttered, then he raised his voice slightly. "The constituents have nothing to worry about." He stuffed the photographs back into the envelope and returned to face his PA. "And the evening? Have I got a night off from the hurly-burly of the politician's lot?"  
  
Sheryl smiled apologetically, "I'm afraid not, Mr Freeman. There is the UEO banquet tonight at Commerce House."  
  
Freeman laughed. "How could I forget!" he exclaimed jovially. "I'm looking forward to that." He waved his hand dismissing his PA. "I'm looking forward to that very much."  
  
***  
  
It was worse than he had expected. Hudson had known that it would be bad, but nothing had prepared him for how bad it would be.  
  
The medical lab was swamped with patients. The entire deck and three others had been commandeered for the victims of the Aberstad attack. And still it was not enough. Doctor Perry and her staff were working around the clock, trying to make their patients comfortable, trying to save their lives, but so far, nothing could be done.  
  
Hudson moved amongst the crowds clad in a biological hazard suit, as were all his staff, looking for Doctor Perry. He found her at the bedside of one of the victims. A young man, probably early twenties, dark hair fanning out over the pillow, the skin of his face a riot of sores. Perry finished injecting the tube at his arm and took a deep breath. She looked up at the monitor and Hudson realised that her lips were moving in prayer.  
  
Long seconds stretched out.  
  
Hudson found his attention riveted by the monitor. That thin line that showed life and death. It changed, Hudson could not tell if it was for the better or not, but he was aware that beside him Perry was holding her breath. Then the line slowed, evened out quickly and flattened.  
  
Perry bowed her head and reached over to shut off the alarm which had sounded. She picked a minature recorder from a tray and spoke quietly into the machine. "Time of death..." she looked at her watch, "03.04am." She struggled upright in her suit. "Compound L-47 ineffective against Stage 2 of the virus. Patient..." she consulted the chart, "625 responded to initial sera," her voice dropped, "but they only delayed the inevitable." Again, Perry made an effort to control her emotions, "Tissue samples from the heart, liver and lungs required from Patient 625." She clicked off the recorder and remained staring down at the still body.  
  
Hudson knew it was too late, but he had to ask. "Resusitation?"  
  
Perry rounded on him. "There is none." she said in a cold voice. "There is barely anything left to resusitate."  
  
Hudson nodded in acknowledgement and moved to turn away.  
  
"His name is James." Perry said flatly. Hudson turned back. "He was on an exchange program for his firm. He'd been in Aberstad for two days. Two whole days. He was on the outskirts of the city. Took a while for him to get sick." She layed one gloved hand on the body's arm. "He was a fan of the 'North Sea Seals', but he couldn't get tickets to the final. Said he watched it in a bar. Said it was the best match he'd ever seen. But everyone was coughing. Even while they were cheering, they were coughing. And then they saw the news. And he said he knew, knew, he was sick."  
  
"It moves that fast?" Hudson questioned.  
  
"That fast." Perry whispered. She straightened and turned to face the captain. "I need more, sir." she said with determination. "I know what we're dealing with, but it's so complicated. We're having to go down every single pathway for fear of missing something. That takes time that we havn't got. I need someone that's been here before."  
  
"He's on his way, Doctor." Hudson tried to be reassuring. He watched as another gurney was wheeled in, this one baring a young girl, no more than ten years old. "He's on his way."  
  
***  
  
Commerce House was an old colonial mansion that had somehow managed to weather the storms of time. Tonight it was bedecked in the colours of the North Sea Confederation and the South Sea Confederation, the colours of the UEO taking second place to the tragedies that had befallen these two member states.  
  
Secretary McGrath stood at the entranceway, ready to receive his guests as soon as they had passed through the detectors at the door. Most visitors appreciated his personal attention, but there were some who noted the media presence more.  
  
***  
  
Two blocks from Commerce House, Mason Freeman ordered his hover-limo to stop. He shook his mobile WAP in apparent frustration. "Claude, my battery has died. May I use yours?"  
  
"Of course, sir." Claude unhooked his WAP from where it had been charging and handed it through the partition.  
  
"Thank you, Claude." Freeman stepped out, resting the 'phone atop his transport. He took a moment to gaze over at Commerce House lit up so prettily and could not stop himself from smirking. Then he turned to the WAP and sent a brief message. He closed the connection and handed the 'phone back to his driver. Settling himself back in the rich upholstery he remarked quietly, "Don't lose momentum." He fixed his sight on Commerce House.  
  
***  
  
The launchbay doors opened. Seconds later Wolenczak emerged from the shuttle. He looked very tired and decidedly ill-at-ease. He saluted Captain Hudson. "Mission accomplished, sir. Professor Garabaldi, as ordered."  
  
Hudson acknowledged the salute and looked expectantly towards the doors. No one appeared, but there were some muffled thumps from within the shuttle and then sounds, then words.  
  
"... Don't bother about that, laddie, that's just clothes. No, I'll take that! Very delicate equipment that... Get your thieving hands away from there! Thankyou! Now, where's this Captain of yours?"  
  
A tall man appeared at the doors, his arms billowed in an attempt to hold onto three suitcases. His kilt swished as he paused on the threshold and swept the dock with a sure eye. He strode forward, carefully dropped the cases to the deck, and held out his hand. "Captain Hudson, I presume?"  
  
Hudson glanced over the Professor's shoulder to see Commander Ford emerge from the shuttle, rolling his eyes. Hudson quickly focussed his attention on the apparition before him. "That is correct, Professor. Welcome aboard."  
  
Garabaldi shook hands with the captain, but looked beyond to the scurrying crew. He regarded the captain shrewdly. "You're in a right pickle, Captain. Why did you call on me?"  
  
Hudson let the joined hands fall. "I might be the pickle, Professor. But you are the vinegar."  
  
Garibaldi's eyes widened. "It's free?"  
  
"We believe so."  
  
"But, but it was destroyed. Everything. Everything was destroyed." Garabaldi now sounded bewildered.  
  
"Including Aberstad and London-town." There were Mammoths that had been defrosted at a higher temprature than Hudson's tone. "So, I need you, Professor. You and everything that you've got on Tronia14."  
  
Garabaldi followed Hudson, cringing as he saw the patients Seaquest was host to. "I'll do everything I can, Captain..." he broke off as he tripped over a gurney and came face to face with one of those patients. Hudson reached back and hauled him upright. Garabaldi steadied himself against Hudson's arm, gripping it tightly. "We need Reinhardt, Captain."  
  
Hudson glanced back at the nervous professor. "Whoever, whatever. We'll get it."  
  
TBC (I hope)  
  
*** 


	3. Author's Note

Dear, All.  
  
Thank you all for your comments and encouragement. I will try to finish 'Sign Your Name' as soon as possible. However, I am in the process of moving house. So don't expect to hear from me, at least until Christmas. I'm hoping that by then, I'll be more settled and the curse of the writer's block will be vanquished.  
  
Take care  
Regards  
Kath 


	4. Multiple chapters Best Wishes for the N...

Chapter 3 - See Part 1 for Disclaimers.  
  
Mason Freeman moved easily amongst the assembled dignitaries. A nod of greeting here, a welcoming smile there... and a few embarrassed glances, quickly finding someone or something else to focus on. At last he reached a tight group of people clustered together near the podium. Secretary McGrath, several high-ranking military types and...  
  
Freeman's gaze flickered for a moment. A new player, one whom he had not anticipated. In the next instant Freeman consciously schooled his face into an expression of welcoming bonhomie and held out his hand.  
  
"Mr Secretary, I must thank you for the honour of your invitation. I only wish this gathering was being held under better circumstances."  
  
McGrath accepted the handshake although he broke it quickly. "Mr Freeman. Welcome to Commerce House."  
  
"Thank you." Freeman waited for the introductions, knowing that McGrath would have to oblige, whatever his personal feelings. The UEO Secretary did not disappoint.  
  
"Gentlemen, this is Mason Freeman, leader of the 'Rainbow Front'. Admiral McClintock of the North Sea Confederation, General Reeve of the UEO, and Ambassador Slain of the Choi Dai."  
  
"Gentlemen, Your excellency." Freeman nodded. //Choi Dai. This complicates things.// "Admiral, please allow me to extend my own deepest sympathies to your confederation. A terrible loss. Terrible."  
  
"Much obliged to you, Mr Freeman. I shall pass your message on." The language was diplomatic, but the gaze was flinty as the Admiral continued, "Rest assured, the perpetrators of these heinous acts will be found and brought to justice."  
  
"I'm sure they will. And, one hopes, quickly." Freeman turned to McGrath. "Has there been any progress in the case, Mr Secretary?"  
  
"Indeed there has. I was speaking with Captain Oliver Hudson before the banquet. Some very rapid progress has been made in treating the virus." He turned to McClintock. "Although London-Town is more densely populated than Aberstad, it is possible that the casualty number can be contained."  
  
McClintock grimaced for a moment before his face smoothed out. "The UEO's efforts are greatly appreciated, sir. If you will excuse me." The Admiral nodded to the others and walked away, his back held rigidly straight.  
  
"I understand Admiral McClintock lost his family in the London-Town attack, sir." General Reeve muttered quietly to McGrath.  
  
McGrath sighed. "I didn't know."  
  
"A personal tragedy that brings the pain into sharp relief." It was the soft voice of Ambassador Slain. His eyes followed McClintock's retreating back. "Raw numbers only invoke horror at their size. It is so easy to forget that each number is an individual. A person with their own history, desires, fears, talents and vices. Snuffed out at the whim of another." He turned back to the solemn group. "I do not envy your job, Mr Secretary. To balance the needs of the victims against the very human desire for revenge." He shook his head sadly, "No, I do not envy you."  
  
"The UEO is not vengeful, Mr Ambassador. We abide by our rules of law."  
  
"Your organisation, perhaps. But individuals?" Slain looked around the room, meeting the stares; some curious, some suspicious, some openly hostile.  
  
"People distrust what they do not know. Come, Ambassador, let me introduce you to some new friends." The group walked off with a nod to Freeman.  
  
Freeman plucked a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. He sipped it slowly, his benign expression concealing furious calculation in his mind.  
  
***  
  
Hudson found Garibaldi in a corner of the medical lab. The tall professor was hunched uncomfortably over a microscope. Hudson was sure he had made no sound as he approached the man, but Garibaldi still noted his presence.  
  
"Captain," Garibaldi made a note on a pad of paper beside him. "What news?"  
  
Hudson shrugged. "The serum you provided is working against the early stages of the virus. But then, you knew it would." Hudson tried to keep the accusing tone from his voice, almost succeeding.  
  
Garibaldi finally looked up. "We weren't stupid, man. Not all of us anyway. Some of us realised the potential of Tronia14 and took steps to... contain the effects."  
  
"Not very successfully." Hudson could not stop his contemptuous tone this time.  
  
Garibaldi sighed. "No. But then it was removed from us." He set down his pen and turned to face Hudson. " 'Green Belt' was discontinued. Took us months to purge the files. We were all being reassigned, but I couldn't help noticing that the ones who argued for continuing the research were the same ones who shut up the quickest once Section7 got involved."  
  
"Are you saying Section7 took over the project?"  
  
"You bet I am." Garibaldi shook his head. "And that's the one thing that does not make sense. Section7 took it all. But they'd never use it. Their involvement was purely preventative. They did not want anyone else getting their hands on it."  
  
"The break-in?"  
  
"Well, that's the problem, isn't it? I thought that was Section7 tying up anything they'd missed. Until I ended up with a pack of them on my doorstep, convinced that I was responsible."  
  
"Can you blame them? You left before the break-in. You were in a good position to give the perps any information they needed. You were an obvious suspect."  
  
Garibaldi grinned without any humour. "You would have made an excellent '7' agent, Captain." He turned back to the microscope.  
  
Hudson bristled. "No need for insults."  
  
Garibaldi looked back at Hudson, and this time a genuine smile lit his features. He nodded slowly. "Okay. Section7 closed us down, hoping to keep our research to themselves, right?"  
  
Hudson merely nodded.  
  
The professor continued, "But, they already had the data. Someone else took it. And they manufactured the break-in to throw the scent."  
  
"Who would do such a thing?" Hudson was utterly perplexed.  
  
Garibaldi shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, Captain. But I'll tell you this: Whoever it was, they are playing for keeps."  
  
  
***  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Colonel Reinhardt returned the salutes automatically.   
  
Captain Hudson introduced his officers, most of whom Reinhardt recognised, before whisking him off for a briefing.  
  
Lucas watched the colonel leave the docking bay with a curious sense of unreality.  
  
The Reinhardt he remembered was a close, compact man. Devoid of emotion, only capable of following orders; even when those orders seemed ridiculous. Arrest a dolphin indeed! But even then, Reinhardt's single-mindedness had shone through. And now?  
  
Lucas trailed the broken figure with his eyes. This man walked with a limp. He had a long scar running down his cheek. His shoulders were stooped.  
  
Lucas's feelings of unreality intensified. Working in the relatively closed environment of Seaquest it was all too easy to forget that over ten years had passed. Even the people they knew from before; McGrath, Kreig, they had aged remarkably well, and Lucas himself tended to forget the passage of time, except when he was trying to buy alcohol with a twenty-eight year old's ID He could hardly blame the bartender for turning him down - although it was probably a mistake to order James Bond's favourite tipple, that was just asking for trouble.  
  
But here was living proof that the years had not been kind to everyone.  
  
This man had personified many of Lucas's nightmares since he'd returned. He shook his head; Reinhardt was no more terrible than any other, and a great deal less terrifying than some he had encountered. At least now they were on the same side. Maybe.  
  
***  
  
Hudson always felt jittery in the presence of Section 7. Putting his feelings aside, he poured two glasses of water.  
  
"Colonel." Hudson gestured for his guest to sit down.  
  
Colonel Reinhardt dropped gracelessly into a chair. He gazed up at Hudson defiantly. "I'm not yet used to my ... deficiencies. Please excuse..."  
  
"Don't give me that." Hudson closed the door to the conference room.  
  
"Captain?"  
  
"Forget it. You're no more 'deficient' than I am. Don't try to play on my sympathies. Believe me, I have no sympathies when it comes to you."  
  
Reinhardt almost grinned. "I told them you would not feel sorry for me."  
  
"Told who?"  
  
"Who do you think, Captain? The UEO." The colonel lounged back in his chair.  
  
Hudson masked his anger. "No, not good enough. The UEO did not send you here. I asked for you." He poured two glasses of water, set one deliberately in front of Reinhardt. "You are going to tell me everything about how Tronia 14 works and how it got out."  
  
Reinhardt took a sip of the water. "You can't believe that I will."  
  
Hudson smiled grimly. "Absolutely correct." He pressed the comm. "Lieutenant Henderson, report our current position."  
  
Henderson's voice crackled over the comm, "Currently two nautical miles off the coast of Aberstad, sir."  
  
"Thank you, Henderson." Without lowering his gaze from Reinhardt's face Hudson pressed the comm again. "Commander Ford, have a launch prepped. Colonel Reinhardt is leaving."  
  
"Yes, sir." Ford's tone was tinny from the speakers.  
  
Reinhardt's face blanched despite his effort to hold on to his poker face.  
  
"Would you really leave me here, Captain? As you said, you..." he smiled, "invited me here."  
  
There was no answering smile from Hudson. His expression was as bleak as the Sahara Desert before the irrigation projects.   
  
"Yes, Colonel. I will leave you here. I will leave you with the fruits of your labours. I will leave you with the sights and sounds of people dying. You've probably managed to avoid the more untidy aspects of your work, but now you can't." He rose and opened the conference room door. "I won't say it's been a pleasure, Colonel..." The implication was obvious.  
  
Reinhardt slowly smiled.  
  
"They even warned me!" he muttered. For the first time Hudson's mask slipped. "Warned?"  
  
"You are a dangerous man, Captain Hudson." Reinhardt reached into his jacket and drew out a sheaf of papers. "Here it is. Everything you want to know."  
  
"The cure?"  
  
Reinhardt coolly waved his hand. "Who cares about a cure?" He tossed the sheets of paper on the table top. "This!" Reinhardt gestured to the papers, his eyes burning with a zealous fire. "This is what you want, Oliver. This is the power. Our power. Our power to make this world, our world, a better place." The colonel sat back, smugly.  
  
Hudson slowly reached for the papers and gathered them up. He scanned them quickly, phrases seeming to jump out at him; all the more horrible for their blandness:  
  
"projected casualty rate - 80%"  
  
"subjects experience extreme nausea..."  
  
"prolonged exposure results in complete system breakdown..."  
  
"subjects experience a variety of symptoms including, but not limited to; dizziness, fever..."  
  
And there it was. The one thing Hudson would never have guessed at.  
  
"It is the considered opinion of this review panel, that the benefits of the compound 'Tronia 14' far outweigh the perceived side effects of the drug. We believe that great strides have been taken in the fight against poverty and hardship. Tronia 14 is the new hope for the developing world. We applaud those who have been instrumental in its conception and furthermore we order that its continued development should be directed by those people who have ensured its safety."  
  
"Who was on that review panel?" Hudson bitterly remarked. "Your mother?"  
  
"No, my aunt."   
  
"Sainted?"  
  
"Under review." Reinhardt grinned.  
  
"You killed them all." Hudson raised a clenched fist. "You killed them all." he repeated hopelessly.  
  
"No, Captain. We did not. We knew what this compound could do and we took steps to contain it."  
  
"You failed." Hudson turned away.  
  
"We did not fail." Reinhardt emphasised. "We did what we set out to do. We have at our fingertips the means to turn vast tracts of unusable land into solid, dependable, arable resources."  
  
Hudson whirled around. "People are dying!" it was almost a scream.  
  
Reinhardt shrugged. "Whoever is behind these attacks is either using an earlier unstable version of the compound, or they have mutated the compound to cause this damage. Either way, there is very little to be done for the current victims. You should be concentrating your efforts on finding the perpetrators."  
  
Hudson sank into his chair in a hopeless fury, gazing at this man in horror. Reinhardt was a human being. He had a beating heart, his lungs breathed the same air, he drank the same water. But how could he be human? How could he dismiss so callously such suffering. At that moment Hudson was not sure who he hated more, the terrorists who had caused the attacks, or the man before him who did not care, as long as he had followed his orders.  
  
***  
  
Tim O'Neil passed a hand over tired eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is hopeless."  
  
Lucas did not look up from his screen. "It's not hopeless. We can't allow it to be."  
  
Ever since Hudson had 're-assigned' Lucas the ensign had been determined to find the terrorists. If he could not bring down Section7 he could at least find the people who had stolen their work. He had persuaded Tim to help him. Lucas was a genius with the hundreds of computer languages but he did not have Tim's skills with human ones.  
  
For the last three days they had trawled through thousands of reports. From news items to police reports, from bank records to private intelligence reports. Neither of them had mentioned how many privacy laws they had broken.  
  
After three days they had a list of suspects, organisations which had the cold cash to finance the attacks, but they were no nearer finding the evidence which would prove it.  
  
"There's no pattern." Tim sighed in frustration. "I mean, why Aberstad? It's not a military target. It's not a strategic one. It's not even the heart of the South Sea Confederation's industry. It's a tourist town. London-Town I can almost understand, it's a political target, but Aberstad? If we don't know what these terrorists want how can we predict where the next attack will come?"  
  
Lucas had gone very still at his computer. Slowly he raised his eyes to Tim. O'Neil could see the shock in them.  
  
"No. It couldn't be him. I'm just being paranoid." Wolenczak shook his head but his eyes strayed back to his screen.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Tim," Lucas spoke so quietly that O'Neil had to strain to hear him. "Can you pull up the records for the 'Rainbow Front'?"  
  
"Freeman's outfit? Even he wouldn't dare do something like this, would he?"  
  
"Let's find out shall we?"  
  
***  
  
Reinhardt stood up to leave. "I have been ordered to give you everything we have on 'Tronia 14'." he said. "Over my protests, I might add. What you have there," he gestured to the files, "is everything that we have. We have no cure because our compound is perfect in every detail. Good day to you, Captain." He turned to go.  
  
"Wait a minute." Hudson demanded. "Is that it? What about the terrorists. Surely you must have some idea of who they are?"  
  
"I do not have that information." said Reinhardt.  
  
"But someone at Section7 does. Your people investigated the robbery at the plant. I refuse to believe that Section7 are so incompetent that they found no clues."  
  
Reinhardt's expression flickered for the barest second at the insult, but he repeated mechanically, "I do not have that information. You will have to put your request for information to the proper authorities through the appropriate channels."  
  
"You're not going to do anything are you? You're going to go on your merry way and damn the rest of us."  
  
"Be reasonable, Captain." There was almost a sneer on the Colonel's face. "What can we do? We are a military organisation. We need a specified target. Terrorists work in the shadows. One could be living next door to you and you'd never know. How do we fight that, bomb every apartment building? No, Captain, it doesn't work like that. I'm sure Section7 is working on the identity of the terrorists, but I am not privy to that investigation."  
  
Hudson suddenly felt very tired and faintly nauseous. "Get off my boat."  
  
Reinhardt said nothing. He turned and left the room. Neither officer attempted a salute.  
  
Hudson allowed himself a brief vehement hope that Reinhardt's transport would develop a 'complete system failure' and take the man to the bottom of the ocean. Then he straightened, gathered the files and headed for med-bay. Doctor Perry and Professor Garibaldi would need the information.  
  
***  
  
Chapter 5.  
  
Ambassador Slain sat in his office sipping from a goblet of wine and reading a highly confidential memo. He had received the memo that very morning. It was a reply from his government in response to his own risk assessment of the UEO. And he was worried, very worried. The orders were very explicit. They were not, exactly, the problem. No, the problem was why those orders had been given.  
  
Slain tapped his teeth with the glass. He had a feeling that he was about to do something which he would probably regret.  
  
The Ambassador put down his wine. How to warn them without violating his orders? And then a name came to him. Someone he had not thought of in years. Slain slowly nodded to himself. It might work. He pressed the intercom on his desk.  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
"I have the beginnings of a headache, Suri. I am going to get some fresh air."  
  
"I can fetch you some aspirin, sir."  
  
"No thank you. I believe in natural remedies. What time does the Farmer's delegation arrive?"  
  
"Two o'clock, sir."  
  
"I shall be back before then. Make sure the delegates are made comfortable when they get here."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Slain quickly put on his jacket and left his office by his private lift. It was all very well contemplating treason in his office. Actually doing it with official equipment would be very, very stupid.  
  
***  
  
The quarters that Wolenczak shared with Piccolo were rarely this crowded. Tim and Lucas stood by the lockers ready to start the meeting. Commander Kimura and Lieutenant Henderson sat on the lower bunk, while Tony himself sat cross-legged on the upper. There was an impatient knock on the door and Commander Ford entered. He seemed surprised at the number of people there.  
  
"Okay, Ensign. What's so important?"  
  
"Sir, Tim and I have been doing some digging..."  
  
"You've found a cure?" Ford interrupted, hope filling his face.  
  
"No, I'm afraid not. But we do think we know who is planning the attacks."  
  
"Next to a cure, that's important. What have you got?"  
  
Lucas handed around summary sheets while Tim explained what they had discovered.  
  
"We started with UEO Intelligence." Tim ignored Commander Ford's wince, but Ford's expression was resigned and Tim continued. "The strange thing was, they were completely clueless. The only thing they had managed to confirm was that it was not their usual suspects. That suggests that the group we're looking for is very new."  
  
Lucas took up the briefing.  
  
"So we started looking for any interest groups, or any groups really, that had been formed in the last couple of years which had large financial backing. One stood out."  
  
Ford looked up incredulously from the paper he was reading. "The 'Rainbow Front'? Mason Freeman?"  
  
"We believe so, sir."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Tim and Lucas exchanged glances. "We're not entirely sure, sir. He may be just a front for someone else. He's always worked for other people." Tim's eyes strayed to Kimura and quickly looked away, but she caught the glance.  
  
"I doubt the Choi Dai would attempt anything so elaborate, they do not have the imagination." she said in a wry tone. "However, it seems to me that this Mason Freeman may be branching out. You said he has always worked for other people. And what did it get him? A life sentence in a brutal prison. This might be his chance at power."  
  
"You can't be serious!" exclaimed Tony. "Are you saying he did this to get elected?"  
  
"There is a precedent. What better way to gain control than be given it, freely, by the people. Once in power he can then make sure that he stays there. Is not that how the Nazi Party came to power?"  
  
History was not Lucas's strong point but he could see Lonnie nodding her head in agreement.  
  
"Kimura's right." said Lonnie. "Look at what Freeman has been doing since the attacks. All the sympathy straight after, but now he's demanding answers, badgering the UEO. He's been on the newsnets more often than McGrath."  
  
"And the popularity of the 'Rainbow Front' is soaring." said Tim. "I wouldn't be surprised if he calls for a vote of no confidence in the UEO leadership. And he'd win."  
  
A depressed silence descended.  
  
"You do realise that if you're right about this and he wins, Mason Freeman would be our boss." said Tony.  
  
"That's the least of our worries, Tony." Ford commented. "What do we do now? Can the UEO arrest him?"  
  
"I doubt it." said Tim. "We have a motive, but it is pretty far-fetched. We can prove they have the means, but we can't prove that they actually bought or financed the compound. All we have is circumstantial evidence and with Freeman's popularity at the moment, no jury in the world would convict him."  
  
"But he must have an antidote or a vaccine." Lucas broke in.  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"Freeman was in Aberstad the day before the attack. Some meeting with the council. I think he set it off himself."  
  
"He'd have to be very dumb to do it himself."  
  
"Or very sure of himself."  
  
Ford sighed. "All right. It is a possibility. I'll inform the captain." He turned to go but then turned back. "Well done, you two." Ford left the cabin.  
  
***  
  
Hudson sat in med-bay watching Perry and Garibaldi work. Their initial excitement at the information had worn off and the faces had turned glum again. But Hudson was remembering something that Lucas had said at their first briefing.  
  
Garibaldi flung the files down in disgust. "Yon Reinhardt was not kidding when he said this compound was perfect. Only tested in the laboratory though."  
  
"What would happen," said Hudson slowly, "if we released this compound into the atmosphere?"  
  
Perry and Garibaldi stared at him in astonishment. "Are you stark, raving mad, man?" exclaimed Garibaldi. "You want to risk another epidemic?"  
  
"Lucas said that the original compound would attack everything until its species was dominant." Hudson sounded defensive. "Well, wouldn't this compound do the same? The difference being that since Section7 have perfected it, it wouldn't attack the existing environment, only the anomalous one, the 'Tronia14'."  
  
Garibaldi opened his mouth to blast forth his reply. Then he blinked, frowned and closed his jaw with a snap.  
  
Hudson could see both scientists thinking furiously.  
  
"Theoretically..." Perry sounded reluctant. "It could work."  
  
"Well, why don't you test it out?" Hudson saw Commander Ford hovering in the doorway. "Let me know how it goes." He eased himself out of the chair and approached Ford. "Yes, Commander?"  
  
"We think we know who planned the attacks, sir." Ford handed over the summary sheet.  
  
Hudson's face darkened as he read. "Get me Secretary McGrath, Commander."  
  
"The call's going through right now, Captain."  
  
"Good. We'll take it in the conference room." Hudson led the way.  
  
***  
  
Commander Kimura stalked to her quarters her clothes dripping with foul smelling oil. One of the leads had ruptured during the overhaul of the weapons system and she had caught the brunt of it.  
  
As she entered her quarters she noticed a message light blinking on her computer, but she decided to ignore it until she was clean. A few minutes later, dressed in a fresh uniform, she opened the message. She sat very still while she digested the brief note. Then, moving deliberately, she erased the message. The information it contained was now superfluous. They had already discovered the perpetrators.  
  
Kimura stood and gazed down at the computer. Somebody from her former life had chosen to contact her. Kimura wondered what that would mean in the future. She left her cabin to return to the weapons systems.  
  
***  
  
Secretary McGrath looked tired and haggard on the view screen. "What news, Oliver."  
  
Hudson told him. He could almost see McGrath's thoughts flicker across his face; disbelief, anger and finally acceptance.  
  
"We have to be very careful, Oliver. Very discreet. If this gets out before we have concrete proof, I might as well invite Freeman to take my place personally."  
  
"I understand, Mr Secretary." said Hudson. "You will let us know if you are successful."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Good. There is another matter, sir." Hudson spoke hesitantly. McGrath waved for him to continue and Hudson explained his plan for removing the threat of 'Tronia14' permanently. McGrath's reaction was almost identical to Professor Garibaldi's. However, once he had calmed down, he did allow that if the tests were successful he would consider the option. The decision was no more than Hudson was expecting.   
  
Now all they had to do was wait.  
  
***  
  
It seemed a very long twenty four hours. But, once they were ready, time seemed to slow down even further.  
  
Seaquest floated just below the surface, specially constructed antennae breaking the water.  
  
On the bridge everyone was quiet, only the beeping of the ship's systems to break the tension. Everything was ready. Everything had been checked, re-checked and checked again. Now they were waiting for their orders.  
  
Captain Hudson strode onto the bridge, followed closely by Commander Ford.  
  
"We have a 'Go'." The captain's voice was quiet but it carried to every corner of the bridge. "Commander, if you please."  
  
Ford nodded to the captain and took his position.  
  
"Torpedo tube 4, Mr Piccolo."  
  
Tony checked the board in front of him.  
  
"Ready, sir."  
  
Ford glanced back at Hudson. "Good to go, sir."  
  
Hudson's gaze was fixed on the viewscreen in front of him. "Fire."  
  
Ford turned to Piccolo. "Fire!"  
  
Piccolo pushed the button.  
  
They all heard it. Some for the first time. Usually the sound of a torpedo launching was masked by the sounds of battle. Not this time. The lone torpedo streaked from the Seaquest and followed its programmed path to the surface.  
  
Piccolo's voice sounded out. "Detonation in, five, four, three, two, one. Mark."  
  
Seaquest rocked, very gently.  
  
Hudson looked up to system control. "Mr Wolenczak?"  
  
Lucas scanned the screens in front of him. Behind him, Perry and Garibaldi were craning forward for a clearer view. "Nothing yet, Captain."  
  
Hudson nodded and returned to the main viewer.  
  
"There!" Garibaldi's voice.  
  
"Just wait. That could be a glitch."  
  
"No glitch. Look!"  
  
Lucas switched the main viewer to show his screen. The bargraphs showing the concentration of the compound in the atmosphere were slowly decreasing. A broad smile split Lucas's face.  
  
"I think it's working, Captain."  
  
Still no one spoke. They watched as the readings fell, millimetre by millimetre. At last Hudson turned. "I think you are right, Ensign."  
  
A huge cheer went up from the Seaquest crew. All of a sudden there was no more tension. Crew members embraced, slapped backs, shook hands.  
  
Hudson waited for the scientists to reach him. "Good job." he said simply.  
  
"Awa' wi' ye!" Garibaldi roared. He grabbed Hudson around the waist and hoisted him up. "You were right, you big numpty!" He set Hudson down again.  
  
When he had his breath back, Hudson swiftly looked over at Ford. Either his Executive Officer had a sudden, severe attack of constipation, or he was trying very hard not to laugh. Hudson gave him the benefit of the doubt. "Set a course for London-Town." Hudson grinned. "We have a clean-up operation to attend to."  
  
***  
  
Their current position was the Atlantic Ocean. They were heading home to San Francisco.  
  
Everything was going well. The release of the 'new and improved' compound had removed the threat of this particular biological weapon for good. Several small operators, connected to the 'Rainbow Front' in the most tenuous of ways, had been raided and in one back street laboratory the UEO had found the cure for the mutated strain.  
  
Captain Oliver Hudson licked a finger and carefully turned the page of his book. A sharp knock at the door startled him.  
  
"Come."  
  
Lonnie Henderson peered around the door. "Lieutenant O'Neil requests that you turn to Channel 47, sir."  
  
Hudson nodded and Henderson departed. The captain flicked the remote.  
  
***  
  
Ambassador Slain intercepted the servant.  
  
"I'll take that."  
  
The servant was too mesmerised at being addressed by the Ambassador to protest. Wordlessly he handed over the breakfast tray, bowed to the Ambassador and scuttled back down the corridor.  
  
Slain nodded at the retreating back. He rested the tray on a handy table and, keeping his movements nonchalant, tipped a fine powder into the glass of orange juice. Then he picked up the tray and headed for the guest quarters.  
  
***  
  
Hudson sat up in shock. "I don't believe it!"  
  
On the viewscreen the mangled remains of a hovercraft accident mocked him. The commentary was funereal. "Information is sketchy, but it does appear as if the only casualty of this accident is Mason Freeman. Mason Freeman is, of course, the charismatic leader of the 'Rainbow Front'. A political party which has made great progress in recent weeks. Some had even tipped Mr Freeman as the next secretary of the UEO. His untimely demise will shock many people..."  
  
Hudson clicked off the viewer. "Shock indeed..." he mused.  
  
***  
  
Mason Freeman stirred at the quiet knocking on his door. "Who is it?" he called groggily.  
  
A figure walked into his vision.  
  
"Mr Freeman. I trust you slept well?"  
  
"Slain?" Freeman was confused.  
  
"Exactly so, Mr Freeman." The Ambassador set the tray down on the bedside cabinet and settled himself in a chair. He steepled his fingers together. "You are in a very precarious predicament, Mr Freeman."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Freeman looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, trying to curb his sudden panic. "Where am I?"  
  
Slain was superlatively unfussed. "You are in the Choi Dai Embassy, Mr Freeman. Currently, you are believed to be dead. I would imagine that any investigations into your party and its involvement in the terrorist atrocities perpetrated against the cities of Aberstad and London-Town are being discontinued." Slain quirked a smile. "The authorities have found many of your former associates. But without the guiding hand..." he gestured to Freeman as his voice trailed off.  
  
Freeman straightened. "I don't know what you are talking about."  
  
Slain remained sanguine. "Of course you don't." He turned on the viewer in the corner of the room.  
  
Freeman watched in mounting horror as he saw the reports. He had thought the media malleable? It was nothing compared to the comprehensive destruction of the reputation he had built displayed in front of him.  
  
"What do you want?" Freeman asked bitterly.  
  
"Your imagination." returned Slain. "My government is willing to pay handsomely for your insights."  
  
Freeman grunted.  
  
Slain gathered himself from his seat. "I'll leave you to consider my offer, Mr Freeman." Slain reached the door. "I hope you will be comfortable. Good day to you, Mr Freeman." he closed the door behind him.  
  
Freeman heard the lock click. He jumped out of the bed and headed towards the curtains. He swept them back, only to reveal a wall. He grinned and continued around the room, looking for all the means of entry. By the time he had finished his circuit it was clear the door was the only way in or out.  
  
Mason Freeman regarded the room. It wasn't so bad. Every other prison he'd been in had been much worse. This one had soft sheets, viewer access, room service... he picked up the glass of orange juice.  
  
So, the Choi Dai wanted him as a consultant. He could live with that. Freeman raised the glass to his lips.  
  
THE END  
  
***  
  
A/N - This is going to be long, so apologies and bear with me.  
  
First of all, thanks for all the reviews. I haven't forgotten you. I'm having major snafu's with my email. They get through all right, but I can't send out. 'Server re-set' and all that crap. It's very annoying. So this is the only way to reply to you all.  
  
Special Thanks to Nikki and Dominatrix for their encouragement, and for the name of the party. I have read one of Tom Clancy's books (either 'Executive Decision' or 'Executive Orders'. I always get the film with Kurt Russell mixed up with the book with 'Jack Ryan'. Just the title, not the content, they are very different.) but I find Clancy even more wordy than me. Still I felt I had to incorporate Rainbow6 into the story somehow and the name of the political party seemed as good as any.  
  
Secondly, I may be being presumptuous, but thanks for any reviews of this chapter. I take my responsibilities as a writer very seriously. I ALWAYS reply to feedback. The fact that I am currently unable to is particularly galling. So if you don't get a personal reply, please don't be offended. I have set up another email account which I hope will be more reliable. If you have enjoyed this story (or not as the case may be) please tell me at; loreleimuse@hotmail.com   
  
And finally, I'll let all of you speculate on whether Freeman's OJ is a passport to a good night's rest or oblivion!  
  
Thanks for reading.  
Regards  
Kath. 


End file.
